. . .trash bin

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ??? OPENING PROGRAM . . . . . . . . . _PROGRAM CRASHED _PROGRAM REBOOT? >N >SCAN PROGRAM . . . _PROGRAM CRASHED . . . >EMERGENCY LEVEL . . . >EMERGENCY LEVEL . . . _EMERGENCY LEVEL LOADING LOADING. . . LOADING. . . LOADING TEXTURE-NIGHT-SKY, TEXTURE-FULL-MOON, TEXTURE-DIRT-PATH, TEXTURE-CAMPFIRE LOADING SOUND-CRICKETS, SOUND-GRAVEL, SOUND-WIND, SOUND-FIRE-CRACKLING UPLOADING USER UPLOADING USER UPLOADING USER UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL TRASH BIN It feels more like an electrical zap than dying. Dying might feel a little bit more like falling asleep, but this is harder, more painful. If you've ever been electrocuted, the feeling might seem familiar; the discovery you make when you open your eyes, too, is likely very familiar. It's the night sky. Stars twinkle, a fire cracks warmly. You sit up and observe the surrounding area, and it's like you've woken up in some sort of canyon. The fire burns brightly, the moon shines beautifully, the crickets sing, and it is ... peaceful. Mostly. You know you're dead. This must be, then, the after life? Or something like it, at least. The horizon stretches on forever, the dirt and gravel seemingly endless. The moon is so big and bright, it's like you could reach out and touch her. There's a shed not too far from the fire, only but a stone's throw away, as if someone else might have made it, and then went inside it. Approaching it, you can see the light glowing inside it through the dusty windows that are littered with fingerprints. A computer screen, so large and wide that it's baffling, sits, waiting. Turning knob reveals that the shed is unlocked, and stepping inside... it doesn't feel any different from the outside. A chair sits in the center of the room, a strange contraption strapped to the head of it. It looks like it would lower itself upon the head of whoever dares to sit on it, and wires from it's bottom curl up towards the machines attached to the screen. Several smaller desktop screens sit beneath the giant monitor. They, too, are hooked up to the machines scattered around the room, to the ominous one perched on top of the medical chair, and they blink, as if fighting to stay alive without use. Pressing the giant monitor on, it lights up, and displays, strangely enough... a security camera feed. You push the button. It switches to another room. Again, another room. Again, another room. So on and forth. You peeping tom! But no one can blame you, in the end. You might as well digitally haunt the rest of the ship until the game ends, and AL-2955 can clean out the trash bin. ...Right? rule book taken characters information cards

Comments

[isodope]

"AL-2955" likes to go by Alice nowadays. And yeah, she told us all about your fucked up project that makes us kill each other. Big surprise: no one is a fan of it.

[al2955]

That's not part of The Cradle Project.

[ She tries to speak, but something happens: her image stutters, like a scratched DVD. Nothing comes out out of Perkins' mouth until, without warning, she resumes mid-sentence. ] --checked on Elizabeth lately?

[mnasthai]

I actually think it's pretty funny~. [ Yeah he had a good laugh about it when Alice revealed the purpose of the Cradle Project to everyone.

But he's actually going to attempt to elaborate on Handcock's answer.]

Alice told us that in order for us to survive and return to our homes, we needed to kill someone else onboard and not be found guilty at the trial. Some people had special roles, and each week she offered us incentives to convince us to murder others.

So far no one has gotten away with it though...

[al2955]

I gleaned that from Hancock's report, Kval. Regardless of how short it was, it was satisfactory. I don't appreciate wasted words. It's wasted time, and we're short on that as is. Instead of focusing on things that give you amusement, you might do well to remem-- [ And again, her image flickers. Admiral Sonya Perkins flickers, and stutters like a video skipping ahead. ]

--wonder why it is that you can communicate with the others?

[mnasthai]

[ ...

Her tone reminds him of someone, and strangely that helps him focus.]

It's all connected, right? I don't understand technology much, but it's related to that game Furry Passing. Could we do more than just write letters to them?

[deformity]

-- Ah! [ Speaking of the game, he suddenly remembers something. ] You were mentioned in Furry Passing! There was a note to you from Private Sanders, I believe.

[ He clicks through his datapad for the page and reads the section out to her. ]

That aside, Admiral, you've been implying that we've met and that... this world [ He gestures to their surroundings. He's not sure what to call it. ] is important. Does that mean when we met you before, we agreed to this Cradle Project? To be on the ship and to be here?

[al2955]

You guys got a lot of detective work to do. I'll say that much. Look, I can feel it, I'm running out of time before my coding glitches again, so I'm going to say this as quickly and plainly as I can: Go to the settings on the game. There's a button at the bottom that says "sync servers." It's not gonna work at first, but if you're persistent and try it once in a while on your own, you--

[ How unfortunate. It looks like Perkins didn't time herself well enough, because she blips out of existence, as if someone's shut her off.

But what's this? A moment of hard silence passes...

And then there's a pop. With it comes Perkins' voice one more time. It seems like one side of the speakers have gone out, and it's very distant sounding. ]

--sure you're in the place you want to be before you do it. Good luck, soldiers.

[ No amount of searching for Admiral Sonya Perkins will reveal her. The Captain of the Pygmalion is, once again, missing.

The house is still here, though, and the crackling of the fire can still be heard. Perhaps it is a clue that she'll be back, whenever it is that this place allows it. Whenever she can slip through the cracks again. ]